Humanity
by MOFOSTAN
Summary: The world has faltered after a series of epidemics occur, the last the deadliest. Now supernatural beasts roam the Earth and the remaining survivors of South Park will have to fight to continue to survive. Can they continue after their friend dies?
1. The 23 Psalm

He stepped into the room with his harsh and hoary boots, panting and out of breath. He quickly locks the door behind him and rests his forehead on the frame of the door. As he is catching his breath and calming down, a loud bang from behind the door is heard. He jumps back, startled, and reaches for his shot gun strapped behind him. He cocks the gun and waits for the thing behind the door, still banging and snarling, to come in the room. He hears a few more outside the barricaded windows and realizes that there is more than one. He only has only five shells left in his gun. He knows he will die, and he lets out a desperate sob as he clutches the cross he is wearing as a necklace.

"God…" He starts to whisper, his eyes filling up with burning tears. He trembles and shudders as he starts to reach into his jacket. "The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want…" He begins to pray as he takes out a small compressed computer. "He maketh me to lie down the green pastures: He leadeth me besides the still," he chokes on a sob, "w-waters." He turns the computer on as the snarling quickens and he can hear a horde of them outside ripping the walls and wood apart. "He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake." He sets a timer on his device. "Yea, though I w-walk through the valley of the shadow of d-death," he whimpers as he says, "I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;" He finishes programing his device as a hand of the things' behind the door crashes through the door. He stands up straight and wipes his tears from his cheek; then he says with his voice loud and resonant, "Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." He pulls a cord from the device and it beeps, starting the timer for twenty-five seconds. "Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over." The door is ripped in shreds and he drops his gun and holds the device in his hand to his bosom next to his heart. He screams in a brash and booming voice without any fear etched in it, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life," The things huddle on the door and crawls in a sickly fashion with its limbs contorted and decayed. They all turn to see him and their eyes brighten in a grotesque fashion with a lust for hunger. Their sharp bite snarls in the air and one screams like a banshee to the man. As they come dashing towards him, the device in his hand beeps twice. The man begins to talks in a serene and secure voice as the thing jumps to his face. "And I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever."

A white light is bathed in the scenery coming from the device, and as all is quiet and as time has seemed to have slowed down; a snarl breaks the beauty of this suspense and the white fire from the device bellows and surrounds all. Outside the community building there were three people up on the roof of a store, eagerly hoping for the man to come out so they can let out their held breath. They grip the edge of the metal as they burn a hole through the building with their eyes, until…

The community service building has its walls and windows implode for a slight second and then blown outwards, letting the shards of window shields and flesh of the beasts fly within a mile radius of them. A scream of a prolonged "no" from the woman on the roof top of the store is heard as the man besides her has his mouth gaped open in a sick, vile horror. A large and hot puff of smoke emerges from the explosion and as it dies down, a slight fire lingers in the area, lasting with the smell of smoke. The woman starts to weep for the man who had just set off the device. She tries to get up and jump off the roof to reach him in a moment of insanity, but the same friend who gaped lunges his hands around her and pulls her back in time.

"STAN!" She screams in a chilling way one might detect in a horror movie.

"You can't save him now!" Her friend yells back at her, holding her to him to keep her from jumping.

"Let me go! Kyle! Let me go!" She starts to sob as she screams, letting her impulse to jump fall as her tears do.

"Wendy stop it!" He pleads letting out a sob himself for his fallen friend.

"God dammit!" The other friend punches the rail of metal, ignoring the throbbing pain on his knuckles and focusing on his lost friend. "God, not Stan…" He mutters as he ducks his head under his arms.

The woman, Wendy, starts to cry on her friend's, Kyle, shoulders. He holds her as he cries along, mourning for his super best friend.

"They will never go away, will they?" The other friend begins. "No matter how much we kill, how much we try. They will never go away…"

The other two stay on the floor, hugging each other for comfort and sobbing for their lost one.

Later, about an hour or so afterwards, the three begin to return to their base. They crept softly and slowly, covering and patching their mourning for another time to survive to reach the base. They swiftly run in silence as they are consumed with a numb feeling, their eyes red and pudgy from the tears. Finally, they safely made it to their base. The other friend scratched on the door three times, Kyle holding Wendy up as support for her stabbed leg with his arm. A knock in the tune of the chorus of the song "We Will Rock You" by Queen came from the other side of the large steel door. The other friend said, "Viva La Resistance: order". The door had a slot, and it opened cautiously. A person's eye crept from behind and examined the three outside. The steel door opened and the three limped inside.

A man that was known well between the three closed the door and locked it tightly and securely once more. They were in a sort of white quarantine looking room. Another door, iron this time, was at the other end across from the first one. It was thicker and taller. The man took out a weirdly shaped flashlight, the kind a doctor would use to check your nose, eyes, and mouth. He first approached the other friend and forcefully opened his eye wide with his two fingers. The other friend was used to this procedure and allowed it. He shined the tool to his eyes and checked the dilation. He took a washed Popsicle stick and pushed his tongue down and viewed his throat with the tool. He shook his head in approval and did the same to the other two. He then took out a glass of kept blood and swayed it in front of the three. The three didn't react in the least and he covered the glass once more and put it away. He looked around for another person.

"Where's Stan?" He said sadly.

"Dead." Wendy said without hesitation, as if she were assuring herself it was real.

The man looked sad, almost mournful. "How are you three holding up?" He asked.

"Casualties happen." The other friend said. "This is no different." His voice was bitter and hoarse.

"What happened to your leg?" The man asked to the direction of Wendy.

"Those fuckers didn't touch it. It was jabbed with a shard of glass when I fell trying to get out." She explained looking at the wall next to her in a sideways glance.

"I see. I think we still have some bandages and disinfectants. You'd need to go to Butters for that." He glances at the blood dripping from the other friend's hand. "Ken, what happened to your hand?"

"It collided with a metal rail, no biggy." Kenny said.

"Okay. Go to the infirmary and wash up." He said.

"Thanks, Kevin." Kyle muttered in a hoarse voice.

"You're welcome."

As the three entered through the larger iron door, they entered the semi-dark building. There was no electricity, so everyone had candles. The three limped to the infirmary where Butters (a nickname the man has had since he could remember), the medically trained professional, would be there waiting for the wounded. As they entered the room Butters just finished treating a man by the name of Clyde Donovan. He injected him with a syringe and patched him up. As Clyde left he clutched his arm in pain. Butters turned to the three and saw their faces.

"I'm going to assume the raid was a bust, huh, fellas." He said.

"We couldn't even pick up supplies. A horde of them came after us." Kenny said leisurely.

Wendy clutched the hem of her shirt as she held back tears.

"That looks like a gusher, Wends. Sit up here and I'll treat ya." He said. He turned to the shelves behind him and took out elastic bandages and other medical tools. She sat on the patient's bed and held her leg to him as he treated it.

"Where's Stan?" He said as he finished.

Wendy clutched the edges of the patient's bed and said in a harsh and loud hiss, "He's dead!"

Butters looked taken aback and he gasped as he covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh hamburgers."

"I need the elastic bandage too." Kenny interrupted, taking the bandages from Butters without asking. He wrapped it around his knuckles and cut the end with his teeth. Kyle helped Wendy off of the bed and she put her arms around his shoulders for support so she could walk. They went out of the room.

When Kenny left to his room, shared with Cartman and Craig, Kyle accompanied Wendy to hers, shared by Red and Bebe. Each room occupied three residents in this building. Red and Bebe weren't at the room at that moment. Kyle laid Wendy down on her futon on the floor and laid her head on her pillow. He took her leg and pushed it back gently to her stomach.

"Does that hurt?" Kyle asked.

"Not as much to worry about." She said softly.

He nodded and sat back to the wall next to her futon. He crooked his head up slightly, facing the ceiling as he relaxed his muscles.

"What if this is hell?" He asked.

"It is, Kyle." She said.

"No… I mean in biblical terms. What if this is hell?" Kyle said.

"You don't even believe in hell, you're Jewish." She muttered, falling asleep.

"Well, let's just say this is hell. Let's just say we don't start living yet until after we die. When we die we start living for real. What if, when we die, that's when the adventure starts? A real adventure that would be one full of knowledge and growth instead of the pain and sorrow that we have grown accustomed to." He contemplated as he rested his palms on the cold marbled floor.

"Are you suggesting we all kill ourselves?" She said, her voice strained and tired.

"I don't know… it was just a thought." He said.

"Stan is dead." She said after a long silence. Her face stayed void of emotion, despite a single tear slipping from her violet eyes.

"I really thought he'd be the one to outlive us all." Kyle said.

"I did too. I guess we immortalized him." She said.

"We always did. He was the strongest, the fastest, and the most reasonable. It just seemed logical to think he'd survive longer than us." He pondered.

"What am I supposed to do without him? How do I go on?" She said as she let out a sob, giving in to her temptation to cry.

"I don't know. Same here. He always had my back. He always pushed me out of danger. We worked as a team because we were the closest of friends. Now what do I do without my best friend?" Kyle smiled sadly.

Wendy hugged her pillow and buried her crying face in it. "This is all wrong. It's not supposed to go this way."

Kyle ran his fingers through his red hair. "Fuck…"

"How could he blow himself up? Doesn't he know we need him!" Wendy cried angrily.

"He didn't have a choice, Wends. You saw the horde of those bloodthirsty beasts surrounding the community building. Would you rather him die human or become those things!"

She clenched her pillow tighter and whimpered, "I really thought he would have come out in time…"

"Well he didn't, okay!" Kyle waved his hand angrily, shouting in frustration.

After a short pause, he grew impatiently perturbed and sighed violently before getting up to leave.

"Kyle…" she whimpered behind her mourning sobs.

He turned back slightly, wanting to keep walking and ignore her call, but he simply couldn't.

"Don't leave…" she whispered.

"What do you want me to do, Wends? Bring him back! Because I would if I could, ya know!" He yelled to her.

She didn't say a word and continued to cry into the pillow. He sighed softly and went back to her side to sit down. "You're not making this easy." He admitted.

Not a single word from her was spoken. He sadly smiled as he glanced to her, her face pressed against the pillow and her hands gripping it tight and stern. He raised his hand to play with her hair, to run his fingers through it, to calm her down.

The morning after that night was the same as always. The residents in the building, in the safe house, all woke up at a scheduled time of 6:00 AM. They dressed and showered in the public female and male bathrooms and then went to the eating room to consume their daily morning portions. They had two meals: breakfast and dinner. Dinner was around four or five. Breakfast is always at seven. This is how things worked in the Safe House, as the residents referred to it. The building was a large military base, a fine one at that, full of barbed wires and steel walls. None of those beasts could penetrate it. The base had plenty of ammo and explosives to last almost twenty years, but as food supplies died down, the Safe House began to assign teams of Scavengers. The Scavengers went off to collect supplies; food, batteries, clothing, first aid kits, medical tools, books and paper (for knowledge and recording events), even scraps of random items they sympathized through memory of the time before the outbreak. Things like toys, collectables, scraps of jewels, bags, blankets, board games, text books, piano key boards, even broken TV sets, all just to remember a better time. Each item was separated in two piles: Needs and Wants. The Needs were distributed fairly or secluded from the public for later emergencies. The Wants were separated by category (education, pass time, accessories, keep safes, scraps, etc.) and put on display for the residents of the Safe House to choose from.

Inside the base was a simple order and stability among the residents from years of hiding from what lays outside of the base. Outside dwells the _beast_, as the residents of the Safe House refer to them. The beasts were subhuman and of the undead. They came about fifteen years ago, first as a series epidemic. Three epidemics unfolded, the next worse than the previous. The first came as a subtle wave, one that no one would pay mind to, and it was known as _The Swine Flu._ Later, about four years later, developed a catastrophic disease in which was recognized as _Super Influenza_. The influenza came about around World War One in the nineteen-teens (1918), as a random disease. It killed off more than 20 million of healthy people worldwide. It would disappear just as random as it came. What came after the swine flu was known as the S_uper Influenza_, meaning that it had a higher death toll and was unable to be cured or prevented. The symptoms would develop light and without notice, unlike the influenza which appeared with vivid headaches, prominent fevers, and nauseating stomachache from the early start. The super influenza would continue to affect you without your notice until you suddenly felt all the symptoms thrice fold all at once. "It would attack you with a vengeance of six flus at once", said a famous scientist at the time of the outbreak, "leaving you unable to defend yourself in the least!" The noticeable symptoms would last for twelve to forty-eight hours before you died. The moment the symptoms surfaced you would be stricken by a high fever that would begin vigorously and without mercy. You would have sudden seizures of tremors erupting as chills that would shake you to the point of severe convulsions. Your throat would lock up, leaving you gasping and wheezing as your lungs would begin to bleed and die from lack of oxygen. Your stomach would have the sensation of a harsh churning motion and your eyes would be bloodshot and a deep scarlet. You would have symptoms of dehydration and your organs would fail, leaving you unconscious. This would eventually lead to dysentery and heart failure.

The last epidemic wasn't airborne like the last two; in fact, it was a gradual growth that was too quiet to notice at first glance. The disease started to affect pigs, for their insides were the most similar to ours, and we were concerned on the massive killings of swine that we hadn't bothered to think it would affect us next. Stories about demons and chupacabras arose about farmers claiming a Mexican folklore monster came to make their pigs sick; of course, it wasn't taken seriously. Later it would occur that a farmer killed a pig he didn't know was infected with the disease. The story goes that as he ate the pig with his family then they contracted the disease. They had rash fevers, on and off, and their eyes were bloodshot and bleeding. They couldn't stand loud noises and their skin started to decay. A deadly symptom was revealed that the ones that contracted the disease had a craving for iron and minerals specifically found in blood; thankfully, the patients were found eating rich soil (which possessed the minerals and iron). Their eyes and noses would have ruptured vessels, causing them to bleed, and their mouths would inflame. Within weeks the patients would die. Once dead, they were taken to the morgue for autopsies. Hours later it was heard in the news that the patients rose from the dead and had murdered the mortician. The mortician's assistant had escaped in a fright and had told the press everything. When the media came to look at the crime scene, the bodies were missing and the mortician was found with his insides gushed open and residue of bite marks that flooded his skin. The assistant had claimed that the farmers had pale skin and their pulse wasn't beating. For months there were cases that the media tried to cover up the streak of murders and witnesses of the rising dead. Then two years passes and the world went to shit. It went so bad that hordes of them appeared randomly to attack civilians. Many tried to make Safe Houses, but the only ones that worked were the military bases and county penitentiaries.

"How was the raid yesterday? Did you get any good supplies?" A rather robust man commented to Kyle as he sat next to him with their daily breakfast portions in their regular trays.

"Not a thing. We actually lost…" He wasn't able to finish the sentence without his voice breaking. He decided to stuff his mouth with a scoop of his oatmeal.

"You lost supplies? Don't tell me you retards lost a rifle?" The rather robust man laughed gallingly and stuffed his face with his own scoop of oatmeal. After swallowing his massive bite, he looked around the crowded room. "Where's Stan?"

At this Kyle lost it and felt his mouth twitch to a contortion one would feel when beginning to cry. He buried his face in his arms as he gripped his curly hair tight letting out a silent spasm of sobs.

The rather robust man side glanced to him and smirked softly as he chuckled, covering his face with his hands as his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit that was picked up by their dead comrade. "I see…" He finally said.

He arose from his seat and walked on to eat in his room. "Cartman…" The rather robust man turned upon hearing his name being called out. "It was an explosion. He… they surrounded him so he…"

Cartman, whose first name was Eric, simply stood silent and turned to walk away once again, in turn leaving Kyle alone.

In a world as this, deaths were familiar. They all, here who slept in the halls of the Safe House, were accustomed to the stench of drenched blood, to the cries of agony and terror, to the news of a dead colleague, to the famine that ripped at their tummies, to the unfairness of death, and most of all, to the constant fear and torture of being the next to die, of having woken up one morning to find that the beasts have found a way to enter to their Safe House. They were used to having friends die and to being drained of hope and virtue. None of the residents at the Safe House, old to young, had their innocence and nativity intact when it came to the way of the new world. A well way to put it was the phrase spoken by a certain resident by the name of Craig Tucker, "We all have the mental state of forty bipolar war veterans."

In a moment of dying hope, the residents of the Safe House falter, as do people. Yet with this tale, the ones who falter are the strongest when revived. They, the impaired, can bounce back to their feet. They, the weakened, can push to revive their strength. They, the scarred, can mend their wounds. They are the faltered, the impaired, the weakened, the scarred, and the residents with dying hope. They are the strongest, the most determined, the fiercest, and the cure! They are the humanity and they will strive to remain human for as long as they shall breathe. This is the essence of people, of all the persons who dare keep their will. It is a will that brings responsibility and virtue, deceit and malice. It is the will that makes them human, along with reason, and fault. They are the dying hope; dying surely, but incapable to vanquish entirely.

They are humanity.


	2. Sector Nine

Clearly everything exists in a nature that you cannot explain. Sure, science may be able to answer the factual, yet an area of the objective is unexplainable when using science. It has texture, most definite; it has sense, surely; yet, it doesn't seem to have words. There are no words to describe these atmospheres that surround our perception. What we perceive, not what, but how we perceive is unanswered. Perception can only ever reach the description of: the clinging of glasses, so rich and vibrant, and the plop of a water drop colliding with a still pool; the clear ruffle of the sheets in the morning and the sorrow of a single tear lashing out your eyes. These moments, significantly obtainable, are everything. The words I have just rolled out previously have been able to give you a small window to what I mean, but you can never understand fully the essence of my thoughts. You can never completely comprehend my actions and decipher my motives. It's impossible for another person to know what makes me myself; especially, given the fact, that I barely know myself, as all humans do. What makes a person human is what makes them weak. We falter, we mash, we die, we are frail, we pollute, we hurt, we betray, deceit, we are malice, horrible, sickly, arrogant, and we are nothing within the universe, yet we think so much of ourselves. Despite our feebleness, we strive in a way that no other thing can. We reason so little yet we dream so grand. We cannot satisfy our quench, nor can we minimize our constant hunger for knowledge. Frail, yes! But we are brute strength, waiting to envelope ourselves in spirit. Polluting, we always shall! But we grow and grow and nothing can hold us back. Humanity isn't a thing to measure and calculate. Being that our kindness, a speck of clear water in an ocean of muck, is unreachable to all others. We have various measures that cannot be measured. Ludicrous to assume that one is all and all is one. We are different, yet very well the same. We are a contradiction in which no like has ever seen. We don't die, but we falter-in spirit! Our valiant doleful selves cannot be squashed under any foot between any so possible sizes. Even if we were to be annihilated, we will live upon bacteria to form once more; for we are unique and unmistaken. We are fools in the making a grand opaque tradition. We are once, and always more, humanity. We are imporable and rotten, yet so pure not a speck of filth may reach us. Humanity is the equality of contradiction and nothing more or less of the nature. We have a proud shame that is our own, always modestly brash and egotistically virtuous; we are saccharinely honest and lost but sure. We are the living embodiment of an oxymoron. That is our quintessence. We are humanity.

And although humanity is once more fleeting, there still lays an echoed succinct amount of that once known virtuous curse. Here beneath all rumble and scarlet waters, below all that is destruction and disease, wretched and sinful, lays a small portion of what is left in humanity. Across this now turned malevolent world, lays a military base of what is only named to be a Safe House for the faltered share of humanity. In this Safe House a meeting is being conjured in Sector Nine of the building, regarding drafts and volunteers. Two long, pressing, years has passed since the loss of our dead comrade in the explosion, killing not only him, but a handful of the beasts. Rations are being stamped among the crowd and a small shabby man with thin aging hair and a lop-sided mustache reads out the names being drafted.

"And of this month, the names picked from the draft for the Scavenger Teams are ready to be called out." He stands amongst the midst of the crowd, elevated by a stage behind a podium. His eyes are looped and tired; his once over dramatic and energetic character is now in shambles with age and this never ceasing war, along with the loss of a son two years prior. "Remember that we are now giving five merits in the ration books for each survivor of the Scavenger Teams. All drafters have been trained since they turned sixteen and are sufficient for this task. The names being drafted are: Lars Benedict, Harry Trump, Kyle Broflovski, Jarred Martinez, Token Black, Rebecca Smith, Kenny McCormick, and Tweek Tweak. All who are drafted please form an orderly line to receive your merits and follow Jimbo into Sector Nine's facility room to be assigned Teams."

"They should really know who the volunteers before the drafting are." commented Kyle Broflovski to his friend, Kenny McCormick. "I could have gotten seven merits."

"All volunteers who decide to take part in this Scavenger Hunt please line up in an orderly line next to the drafted to receive your seven merits." The aged man cleared his groveled throat and scrabbled something in his clip board before saying, "Finally, those wanting to purchase supplies and drugs along with scraps may lay wait till tomorrow. Prepare your merits along with trades of portions for extra items. That will be all."

Kyle and Kenny walked to the formed line, behind Token Black and in front of Lars Benedict. They waited to see who would volunteer. They already knew for the most, but were still accustomed to lay wait for it.

Wendy Testaburger, naturally, was the very first to be in line for the volunteer row; then approached Craig Tucker, Eric Cartman, Jorge Harrison, Gregory Yardale, and Christophe De Lanore. They were the usual volunteers, minus Kyle and Kenny who were just drafted. After receiving their merits in their ration books, they were led to Sector Nine's facility room by Jimbo.

Upon entering, they all lined up in one row. Jimbo, an aged man with thick meat in his skin, stood straight across another aged man named Ned, who was a small built man with an artificial voice. "Being the numbers, there will be four teams of three and one team of two. Ya'll will not be allowed to pick, but we will assign you." He took out a clipboard and called out the teams and the names occupying the teams. He started speaking formally in a thick country accent. "Team One: Jorge Harrison, Lars Benedict, and Jarred Martinez. Team Two: Gregory Yardale, Craig Tucker, and Rebecca Smith. Team Three: Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, and Wendy Testaburger. Team Four: Christophe De Lanore, Tweek Tweak, and Kenny McCormick. Team Five: Token Black and Harry Trump. These names have been selected at random and cannot be switched. Ned here will supply ya'll and ya'll will proceed to the Outer Sector to be monitored and checked by Kevin."

Ned began to supply them with their chose of weapons, ammo, and precautions. Kyle was supplied with a Storm Rifle*, a small military machete, and a FN Model 1910* with a more than fair amount of ammo for it, along with a roll of elastic bandages. Wendy was supplied with a double barrel shotgun, a crowbar, and a Russian Kalashnikov AK-47. Eric was supplied with a sub-machine gun on single shot setting, a regular handgun, and a large bludgeon. Kenny was supplied with the Soviet AK-47, and a silencer. Christophe took a regular pistol and his shovel as his main weapon, figures.

Then the five teams proceeded to the Outer Sector of the Safe House and waited for Jimbo's regular instructions. "Okay, now you five are going to be heading out to different locations. Be back by sunrise, and if you're not back, we'll assume you're dead. Your guns and melee weapons will be your survival if and when you encounter the beasts. Try to be quiet when walking through the streets of South Park and most likely you can avoid them all together. Try and use your melee weapons the most, and only use your guns and rifles when necessary, because a gun can alert the other beasts where you are. Are there any newbs out here who has never been to a Scavenger Hunt?" Harry Trump slowly raised his hand as he held a sniper in his other hand. "Well then, rely on your teammates but don't slow them down. You've been trained for this since you turned 16, so don't be so nervous." Harry Trump nodded timidly as he tried not to tremble from fear.

They all scurried into the Outer Sector where Kevin awaited them, reading _The Old Republic: Raven_. He put his book away to continue for another time and rose to do the regular check-up before the others went along. After examining the entire five teams, he gave them the go ahead to continue the Scavenger Hunt. Jimbo checked outside the slot of the door and saw no beasts. He told them to separate in their groups and said, "Now decide a group leader within your team, one that has experience and good teamwork. Afterwards I will hand you your locations to search within that one area."

In Team One, Lars Benedict was the team leader, being that he had gone to the Scavenger Hunt the most out of the three of them and that he was well trained when it had to do with machine guns. They were assigned the houses on the left of the streets. In Team Two, Gregory Yardale was the team leader, being that Craig didn't care (although he had gone to the Scavenger Hunts the most) and Rebecca had only gone once before. They were assigned the houses on the right of the streets. In Team Three, Kyle Broflovski was the team leader, being that Wendy was against being the team leader and Cartman always lost to Kyle on _Rock, Paper, Scissors. _They were assigned Walmart. In Team Four, Christophe was assigned team leader for obvious reasons, and they were assigned to the upper side of downtown South Park (which isn't really that wide). Ultimately, in Team Five, Token Black was selected for team leader, being Harry Trump is a total wuss. They were assigned the bottom side of downtown South Park.

This finalized, Jimbo unlocked the large steel door and pushed it open. The Teams cocked their guns and shed out their blades and melee weapons and set off to their destinations. Now the tale focuses on Team Three as they head out to the nearby Walmart. They are swift, steady, and silent as they sprint along the way to their destination. Kyle notices a large beast and signals to the other two to slow down. They do so as they all hide behind an object of chance. Kyle ducks behind a torn automobile, Wendy tumbles behind a corner of a nearby wall, and Cartman bends behind Kyle, the torn vehicle shielding him. The beast stomps and shrieks as it slithers across the street. It has a large malformed body, broken and ripping apart. Its arms are enlarged and pus is dripping along its pores. Its entire posture was contorted and ghastly as it disappeared from the streets. Kyle signaled that it was secure to persist along the road. They started in the same pace as before and ran to the street they knew so well to lead to Walmart.

As they were three blocks from Walmart, a snarl was heard from behind Kyle. Kyle abruptly stopped and spun around, hauling out his machete and swung it to the air. He hit a beast and it tumbled to the floor, injured, but still had the juice to attack. The beast dislodged it's jaws as it was about to execute its trademark banshee scream—this was unwanted, seeing as when the beasts did this, any beast around the area would march along to that direction. At the moment he almost screamed, Eric swung his large bludgeon at its head, terminating it. Eric glanced up at Kyle with an arrogant smirk. Kyle rolled his eyes and pushed Eric out of the way. He signaled Wendy to come over. She, patiently and calmly witnessing everything walked over to Kyle. Kyle began to move his arms and hands in sign language. Wendy nodded her head and signaled an answer back. Kyle nodded and signaled for the both of them to continue. As they approached Walmart, they caught their breath and sipped a small portion of their water bottles. Kyle nodded and Wendy and him went in alone while Eric staying outside to keep watch. He hid behind in the shadows to conceal himself from any of the beasts.

As Kyle and Wendy went inside Walmart, they walked calmly into the aisles. They took out their large bags and began to pile things in silently.

"Remember when Walmart first opened?" Kyle whispered.

Wendy nodded and whispered back, "Stan told me about it. You four set off to destroy it and Cartman pretended to be on your side till you reached Walmart. Then he stayed behind and 'battled' Kenny."

"We burned down Walmart and we all sang Kumbaya. It was the most retarded shit." Kyle said, grabbing some canned goods and placing them in his bag.

"No, the worst thing was when Winkilinks made the website 'Eavesdropper' and posted up a ton of garbage." She smiled at the distant memory, pulling a strand of her long and tied hair behind her ears.

"No, the worst was Imaginationland." Kyle whispered as he shuddered at the memory of seeing himself suck Cartman's balls.

Wendy held back a laugh. "I heard about that too."

They then traveled to the medicine section to stock drugs in their sacks. They took Tylonal, Motrin, pain killers, bandages, and even allergy medicine. They broke into the pharmacy in Walmart and acquired Penicillin and asthma inhalers. Then as they reached the beverage section, they found three of the beasts rummaging the candy stocks. Kyle and Wendy glanced at each other. They looked at the beasts and distinguished them to be hard to kill and able to take various shots. They stepped back and turned around, not wanting to set them off. They walked near the exit to go to another aisle when they saw a giant beast darting with large and prominent stomps towards the Walmart. Their eyes widened and they whistled, alerting the other beasts. Eric went inside the store running and cocked his gun as he reached Kyle and Wendy. They positioned themselves behind each other and breathed in and out, awaiting the four beasts to come at them.

"Ready, men!" Wendy shouted, cocking her double barrel shotgun. "I'll go after the big one!"

The others nodded and they dispersed. Kyle and Cartman instinctively ran to the other three beasts who were already charging at them. The large beast broke the already ripped windows of the front exit and ripped apart the walls. She shot at it and it moved back slightly. She decided that it was too big, about nine feet, to continue to shoot and she'll waste more ammo, so her plan turned to leading it outside taking care of it then. She rushed pasted the beast and evaded its hits towards her. Meanwhile, Kyle started shooting a beast with his storm rifle. They spun their heads back as they were thrown behind them by the impact of the gun. Cartman used his melee weapon the most and started to repeatedly hit one again and again. Kyle kept shooting the two with his storm rifle.

"Cartman!" Kyle yelled.

"What!"

"Go help Wendy! I got everything taken care of here!" He shouted towards the rather robust man.

Eric nodded and left the three to Kyle to go assist Wendy with the larger beast.

"What's the plan, ho?" Eric asked as he rushed to Wendy's side.

"Steer the son of a bitch outside and blow him up!" She yelled cocking her rifle and shooting at it.

"Sounds doable, but more will come when they hear the explosion." Eric reasoned.

"Yeah, and then we run!" She yelled back.

He nodded and took out his sub- machine gun. He ran past it, towards the exit, and started to shoot its back. The beast turned around and bellowed a screeching roar to Eric. It clobbered its enlarged hands to the ground, pommelling it, and moved to charge at Eric. Eric ran to what was left of the exit and into the streets, and in the meantime, Wendy rushed to an aisle to get gasoline. When she came back, the beast had struck Eric a blow that sent him flying into the street. Wendy doused a part of the street away from Walmart with the gasoline. The giant beast was now charging at her as she finished. She ran back and lit a match and threw it to the ground where the gasoline was poured. As the beast ran into it, it started to scorch from the fire and it shrieked in a shrill cry of agony. Wendy cocked her double barrel rifle and shot it over and over until it died with a whimper, falling with a large boom to the ground. Kyle came out of the Walmart, his clothes seeped in blood and his sack in his hand, almost full.

"You okay?" Kyle asked Wendy as he came closer to her.

She nodded as she pointed to Eric. "Help him… I'm going to go get more shit." She walked inside the Walmart to grab more supplies and random objects that she could find as Kyle quickly aided Eric before more beasts came. Kyle ran to Eric's side and knelt to the ground.

"Fat ass!" He shouted as he shook Eric's body.

Eric moaned in anguish as he held his head with his hands. "Shut up… stupid… Jew…" He said.

Kyle sighed a breath of relief. "Do you have symptoms of a concussion?"

"I don't think so." Eric answered.

Kyle began to check Eric's body for any signs of broken bones or bleeding. "Your shoulder's busted."

"Oh really! I didn't notice that when I landed on it, stupid Jew!" Eric yelled.

"Fuck you, dipshit! I was trying to help you!" Kyle hissed, motioning Eric to be quiet.

"Well, if you want to be useful, help me up, kike." Eric spout.

"I should just leave you here to die." Kyle mumbled under his breath.

"Like you'd do that." Eric teased.

Kyle rolled his eyes and sat Eric down on the floor. He went to Eric's side, where the shoulder dislocated, and started to massage it. "When I count to three, I'll snap your shoulder back in place."

Eric nodded and flinched, knowing it's going to hurt like shit. "Ready? One…"

Kyle snapped Eric's shoulder bone back in place with a loud crack and Eric screamed in agony as the pain made him dizzy. "You fucking kike! You said three!"

"That's for calling me kike, chubby." Kyle smirked as he took out his elastic bandages. "Here stay still while I wrap it to keep it in place."

Eric muttered something about Jews being sneaky and vengeful as he gave his arm out to Kyle. After Kyle wrapped it around, making his arm bended to keep his shoulder in place, he helped Eric up from the ground. "I hate you, Kahl." Eric sneered.

"You're welcome." Kyle simply said back. "It was weird how that big motherfucker came charging at us from outside the store. Wendy and I didn't make any noise."

"Well… that's kind of my fault…" Eric admitted.

"What!" Kyle yelled at him.

"What? I didn't see it from a distance! I accidentally fell back into a bunch of Walmart carts and the bastard heard me." Eric defended himself.

Kyle groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Only you, fat ass."

Wendy came out of the Walmart with her sack full of supplies. She strutted to Kyle and Eric with a void face. "I heard some of those bastards coming, we should move back to the Safe House."

The other two nodded and started to run back at a swift pace before the other beasts came.

**A/N: **

**There are certain references that I want to talk about.**

**The first is the storm rifle:**

**The original name for a storm rifle (besides assault rifle) is the StG 45 (M)—AKA the Sturmgewehr 45. It was used by the Germans in World War II and developed by the Nazis. You can clearly see why I gave this gun to Kyle… oh, I just couldn't resist it**

**The second is the FN Model 1910:**

**This specific hand pistol was the one used to assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria! If you don't pay attention in American History class (or haven't had that class yet in high school) he was the very reason World War I even started! Without him being assassinated then there wouldn't have been a World War I! Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria was the heir to the Austrian throne. He was assassinated by Gavrilo Princip—a member of the Black Hand (a secret military society)—on behalf of the Serbian government. Afterwards, German developed the Schlieffen Plan which was to invade Belgium, attacking Russia, and later invading Paris. Without this assassination by THIS gun, there would be no trench wars, no German gassing of the troops, no flame-throwers, no U-boats, no Daylight Savings Time (which was started in WW1), and no debt for Germany to carry? Do you know why Hitler hated the Jews so much, besides personal reasons? He asked the Jews to lend him money to pay off the debt and he was denied. The debt that was $33 billion! The number was finalized by the Treaty of Versailles on June 28, 1919. With this treaty, they made new fucking nations which took land away from the Germans! It created Poland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, and others. The action igniting World War II was because Germany invaded Poland to take back land. Poland was a combination of German and Russian people living in the country. They obviously didn't get along, proof of the fact that Hitler's forces in WW2 were abolished in the winter of a battle in Russia, being the same exact way Napoleon lost his reign (in a battle in winter in Russian territory). I just HAD to give this specific gun to Kyle (despite the fact that it wouldn't ever be in a little military base in present times). This gun was the one that started WW1 which led to WW2 and the holocaust. Being that Kyle's a Jew… I couldn't resist!**

**Hope you all like it (… And my little rants about humanity …)! :D**


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